


Empire's Breath

by Golbez



Category: Final Fantasy II, Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, Magic Meta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1450762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golbez/pseuds/Golbez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mateus enlists a she-demon to help him subdue Fynn.</p>
<p>He does not know that she has done that before, and he certainly did not know that she has fought Dragoons like Ricard Highwind in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empire's Breath

**MATEUS**

She appeared to him before he could even finish the summoning chant, a swirl of petals pretending to be gold forming in the center of his throne room, her delighted laughter filling the air as her figure solidified.

The Empress of the Wind bowed to the Emperor of Palamecia, her lips - in an ever shifting color of dawn - curled into the slightest smirk. "What does the son of Palamecia seek of me?" Her voice, though soft, shook the walls.

Mateus made no motion to return the bow, only finishing the summoning chant and raising his scepter to the air, as he had done with the last demon he had summoned. She laughed, and the rustling of fallen autumn leaves filled his ears.

"You need only call my name to summon me, little boy." The Empress's figure straightened, revealing her mockery of the court dancers' garb. "No need for formalities between kin, after all."

Kin. Mateus examined her face, a feat no easier than reaching out to grasp sunlight. Any distinct features on her escaped him, no matter how much he concentrated. All he could see were her nondescript eyes and smile, though her eyes reminded him of a cat's at the moment, but he could not tell why.

It was a simple matter to set aside his irritation at her teasing in favor of saying, "I require your aid, demon."

"Demon?" Her voice grew soft, a northern breeze caressing the sands of the Parakian desert. " _Demon?_ Is that what they call me now?"

"Then what would the _mighty_ Valvalis have this most, _most humble_ son of Palamecia call her?" he asked. "Your wish _is_ my command, _mighty_ Valvalis."

"Do not mock me!" Her figure shimmered, her shape growing less and less distinct by the moment. Wind flowed from nowhere, impossible currents rushing against the walls and pressing against the invisible barrier he had the foresight to erect around his throne.

She shrieked and dove at him, claws of gathered clouds striking the barrier and bouncing off harmlessly. Mateus stood his ground. He gazed at her with an indifference that had long been cultivated into an art, even as his throne room's decor lifted themselves off the ground and began to fly around at high speed.

"If you will not aid me," he said, just as a potted plant sailed by and grazed the barrier before crashing into the wall behind him, "It is no matter for me to call on another demon to do what I require. Let it be known Valvalis failed to fulfill a summoner's request."

The wind's howls ceased and his decor froze, hovering uncertainly as they awaited permission to embrace gravity. The Empress was just as stationary, poised to strike with a claw raised.

"I do not stand for insults."

"I know."

"Yet you would dare defile my name?"

"Yes."

She seemed to study him for a moment, then sighed. A breeze swept the room.

"Well?" asked Valvalis. "What is it that you want so much to awaken me from my slumber?"

"You will provide me with the Cyclone," said the Emperor, "And aid me in its use. When that is over, I will return you to your sleep."

The room's decor chose to respond for her, simultaneously crashing to the ground in a cacophony of shattering vases and creaking wood while she swore in a language unknown to him.

"Very well," she spat. "Do as I say, and the Cyclone will be yours."

 

Years before, the young prince of Palamecia stole a book from the Great Library of Mysidia.

He hid the tome, shrunken to the size of a pea and magically waterproofed, under his tongue. No mage thought to run any sort of magical scan for illicitly borrowed books on him, as he was not yet of the right age level to learn any of the spells that were commonly used to hide books.

And really, what self-respecting little boy would steal a book?

So the young Mateus made his first impact on Mysidia by stealing their prized original of a book on demons and their names, the only book of its kind in the world.

Later, after he had committed every word in it to his memory so he could rewrite it in its entirety twice, thrice, many times over without making a single mistake, he took a single Firaga to the book and its copies and thus once again figuratively sent the academic sector of Mysidia an obscene hand gesture.

Of course, the full impact of his actions would not come to light until much, much later, when, as emperor, he summoned the one and only King of Demons and made a pact for power, and later still, when he remembered the name of a she-demon who had once sundered the world with a thousand winds.

 

It was midway through the joining of their minds, as she transferred control over the Cyclone to him, that Mateus decided that Valvalis was wasting his time.

He broke from their mental communion in a sweat, gasping for breath that seemed to flee from him. Valvalis hovered before him, her form solid now, showing no reaction to the sudden cessation of mingled thought and memory.

"Why did you show me that?" he snarled, as soon as he found his breath again. She had not allowed him to pull away until every memory had played out in their entirety, from her coronation in a golden hall to the moment the rocky landscape came up to meet her.

"If you want control of this wind," she said, "then you do as I instruct."

"I've participated in transfers of control before," he hissed, "but never was there a need for... _this_." He reached up and gestured to his own head. "What is the point of forcing a link between our minds? You give me the wind, I release you."

She laughed, and this time he heard a spring breeze behind her voice. "Ohohoho, it's not as simple as that, my dear Emperor." She hovered closer to him, waving a dismissive hand. "This is no simple spell, no minor device. The wind is not a toy. If you want to control this wind, you'll have to feel it. You have to know why I am, you have to know how I came to be. You'll feel what I felt, know what I knew. You'll become the wind. Just be grateful this won't be permanent. Now, what did I last show you?"

Mateus's lips flattened into a line in response. It was only when Valvalis repeated her question that Mateus finally answered, "Your death."

"Describe it," she said, in a tone reminiscent of the masters of Mysidia. Mateus tightened his grip on his scepter, lips twitching from the urge to scowl.

"You fell out your window, that of a floating castle no less, and hit the ground at high speed."

A current of wind lashed against his cheek, sending him reeling . He did not have to reach up and touch it to know that he was bleeding. He glared up at her as he began to heal it, and she returned his look with a smug smile.

"Describe it," she said.

"You were pushed out a window, falling at the highest speed towards the ground," he said through gritted teeth, "As you fell, you cursed the name of the Dragoon who betrayed you, even as you looked up and saw him leaning out that window with one hand outstretched. You do not remember the exact sensation of dying."

"Are you so stupid and blind even after all that you have borrowed from demons? Describe it."

"What is there to describe?" he hissed, "The circumstances of your death are quite straightforward. There is nothing else to say."

"No, that's where you fail," she snapped, "Here I thought a mage would understand. Tell me, do you not feel anything when you successfully cast a difficult spell? Have you never broken through another mage's defenses, never shredded a man with a thought?"

He had, of course. Countless times. He'd cast many a spell and broken many a mind in the past, but still, he could not see what she wanted him to say.

"Tsk, tsk," she continued, "'It's hard to believe that any sister of mine would produce a line of simpletons. Unless such a development is only a recent addition to the line. Perhaps as recent as the bitch whose womb you crawled out of, hm?"

"That's enough!" The flare came unbidden, tearing itself from him even as he mentally grasped at it, trying to pull it back before it caused too much damage. He drew himself back as the sphere of flame hit her. The rage that had drawn the flare out had simmered down into a lump at the back of his throat, every bit as bitter and disgusting as bile. The mother he had exiled smiled in his mind.

He winced as the flames scattered in Valvalis' wind, dissolving into nothing. He expected winds to batter him, claws to tear him into shreds. He had no doubts that even with the summoner's bind he had imposed on her, she would not hesitate to destroy him for perceived insolence.

Instead, laughter echoed around the hall, the bark of thunder against dark clouds. "There it is!" She swam in the air around him, twirling in apparent delight. "There it is, that which you had _such_ trouble finding, yet all along you carried it as well. You are my kin, after all!"

"You insult me,' said Mateus, scowling.

"Insult you?" She laid a hand on her chest, puffing up in mock indignation. "My dear child, that was a compliment. The mere fact I am holding your hand through this is a compliment. Now then, why don't you finally describe to me what it was you felt?"

She hovered nearer, waiting. Mateus's grip on his scepter tightened as he finally realized what she meant. How blind he'd been, to what she had meant with her wiles.

"Anger," he said, and when she frowned, he added, "Or rather, rage at its purest, the blackest of hate to ever consume you...perhaps that is what you felt." He narrowed his eyes, concentrating and trying to remember what she had shown him. It was even worse than trying to identify the features of her first form, and he was not inclined towards experiencing the entire affair again.

"More than that," she said, and it seemed that she was finally willing to make everything clear for him, "I felt the wind touch me as I fell."

"Of course it would. You were falling rather quickly."

She scoffed. "That's not what I mean," she replied. "You're being foolish again."

"I am not a -"

"Does your magic not touch you?"

"...it does," he said, after a moment's pause.

She smiled, and then he felt a hand against his cheek, claws caressing his skin, trailing downward. She disappeared from his vision, and he might have been alarmed had he not felt her breath against his neck right then.

A tapered fingertip tapped the gold plating over his chest, and Mateus felt his heart fight against its cage, acting upon its sudden urge to break free of him and jump into her hand. He tensed, as her claw dug holes in his armor, his body frozen by an unbidden, growing sense of dread. She'd devour his heart, he thought, and she would ensure he enjoy it.

"So it does," she said, hovering before him again. He relaxed, ever so slightly, grip on his scepter still tight.

Mateus scowled, putting his willpower to use on not acting upon the desire to just dismiss her there and then. He could find other demons. He should. They would be more submissive to him, less likely to toy with him like this. They would not be full of insults and coy smirks, no more games upon his mind. Just their unflinching obedience.

Other demons would be more difficult to reason with. Valvalis was one of those rare few demons who understood the human mind, and his mind, no matter his ambition, was still very human.

"Well?" he said, "Have I passed your ridiculous tests, or are you going to waste more of my time?"

"You still don't understand!" she hissed, but she lowered herself, her feet coming to touch the floor, her body uncurling itself in midair until she stood before him with her back straight. "But I will allow it - it's clear your talent for magic will be enough, even if you won't grasp the why in this case. It's also clear you're as stubborn as a chocobo chick."

"It must run in the family."

Valvalis paused, then began to laugh. "I suppose it does, oho!" She laughed for a moment longer, then began to hover again as she fell silent, her expression twisting into an eager grin. "My sister's wit lives on, it seems. Well, now then, you want the Cyclone - I'm afraid I can give you enough power to only direct the wind."

"Only that?" he asked, frowning. "I want full command over every wind of yours."

Her grin grew, displaying to him rows of impossibly pointed teeth. "They'll only tear you to pieces if you tried more than that, the way you are now. Just tell me where to go, and leave the rest to me."

He thought of dismissing her again, but that desire for the Cyclone's power told him it was not worth the trouble.

 

The wind slips and slides beneath and around his fingers, waiting for his command. It was much like his magic after all, a quiet pulsing beneath the surface of reality that constantly pulled and pushed on and against his mind. He only had to concentrate and will the wind a certain way and it would follow, much like his magic.

Unlike his magic, the wind did not really answer to him. He could push it in a certain direction, and Valvalis would move the Cyclone for him, even building a fortress out of nothing for him. Valvalis had made his situation clearer to him than he'd like, but it was a minor thing to concede to, after all, soon he would have the world to rule.

And perhaps, after that, he would find a way to take the winds from her. After all, the Great Library still stood. What a simple matter it would be, to find the right spells and rituals needed to strip a demon of her powers.

 

"Ah, so that kingdom is next, my dear?"

Mateus smirked as he pushed the Cyclone onward. "It is Fynn, where rebel vermin have made their nest."

She laughed, the entire fortress shaking with the sound. "What fun this will be!" The fortress creaked, the winds changed, and the Cyclone began on its way towards Fynn.


End file.
